


maybe soon

by abbeghoul



Series: RQG Femslash Week 2020 [1]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Fix-It, Recovery, mentions of that time cleo lost an arm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23275039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbeghoul/pseuds/abbeghoul
Summary: “Sam, don’t put too much sugar in!”“Three cups is not too much sugar!”“You’re going to give her a cavity.”“What do you care? You can’t even eat it!”
Relationships: Betty | Bette/Cleo (Rusty Quill Gaming)
Series: RQG Femslash Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673695
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: RQG Femslash Week 2020





	maybe soon

**Author's Note:**

> Happy rqg femslash week, everyone! It's technically still Sunday, I think. In California. 
> 
> Day 1: Celebrations

“Sam, don’t put too much sugar in!”

“Three cups is not too much sugar!”

“You’re going to give her a cavity.”

“What do you care, you can’t even eat it.”

Betty couldn’t believe how lucky they’d been. When she’d seen Cleo falling from the sky after being swallowed whole by a dragon, she’d thought she was gone, but Betty’s magic reached out in the midst of her panic and slowed Cleo’s fall so she landed safely on her back, still wounded, still bleeding from where her arm had been cut from her body, but alive. Betty had done her best to stop the bleeding before someone in the crowd finally called an ambulance and Cleo was rushed to the hospital. Betty had stared after the ambulance, longing to go with her, but unable to come up with a reason good enough for the paramedics,

So, Betty had gone to Sam, found them sitting in the car trying to get it to work. She’d taken one look at them and they hadn’t even been able to get a word out before Betty had pulled them into her arms tightly.

She didn’t often touch other people, it took a lot of her concentration to do it, but she couldn’t hold Cleo, couldn’t tell her she loved her, couldn’t tell her who she was, but she would _hug this kid_ if it killed her.

“I’m so glad you’re alright, kid,” she’d whispered. She had been crying, which she hadn’t known she could do anymore.

“I’m not a _kid,_ I’m an _adult,”_ Sam had protested.

That had been two weeks ago, and Cleo was finally coming home from the hospital. Betty had taken Sam back to their flat- back to _Cleo’s_ flat, because she didn’t live there anymore. That had been another life, one where she could tell Cleo she loved her however many times she wanted and know that Cleo would return those feelings with no reservations about the demonic state of her partner.

But, even though Betty couldn’t be _with_ Cleo anymore, that didn’t mean she couldn’t make their flat feel like home, especially after Cleo had spent weeks confined in a hospital bed. So, she’d directed Sam to their cookbook and made them turn to the page with Cleo’s favorite cake recipe.

By the time the cake was iced, Betty wasn’t sure it was anything like what it was supposed to be, but maybe after spending the last two weeks eating nothing but green gelatin, Cleo wouldn’t notice that the icing hat eight times as much sugar as it was supposed to.

When Cleo knocked on the door to the flat, she was greeted by a fourteen-year-old covered in flour and a ghost in an apron, and Betty got her first good look at her in two weeks. She’d been to the hospital, of course, but Cleo was standing, now, and in her own clothes in her own apartment. Her left shoulder was wrapped in bandages and there were bruises scattering her skin.

She looked beautiful.

Sam, who had been in the middle of an angst-filled retort to Betty, practically ran to the door, opening it, and wrapping their arms around Cleo in a very quick hug that Cleo didn’t even have time to reciprocate before Sam pulled back and tried to look cool.

“Hi, Cleo, it’s good to see you,” they said, sticking out their hand as if they were professional. Betty giggled and Cleo smiled and ruffled their hair.

“Good to see you, kid,” she said, moving into the flat. Betty couldn’t resist and moved to hug her, stopping just in front of her.

“Um, I’m- I’m glad you’re home. How are you feeling? Would you like to sit down?” she rambled, words coming out faster than she could think.

“I’m fine. What’s that smell?” She takes a deep breath through her nose. “It smells amazing.”

Betty perked up. “We made you a cake!” She walked into the kitchen and went to pick it up, only for her arms to go right through it. She was too jittery to focus on being corporeal, it seemed. “Sam, could you bring the cake to the table? Cleo, sit down, we’ll cut you a slice.”

The cake was large, misshapen, and covered in bright pink frosting that was almost red. Sam had been a little heavy on the food coloring as well as the sugar, it seemed. Written on top of the cake were the words _Welcome home, Cleo!_

Cleo sat at the table and smiled when she saw the cake. “Oh, you didn’t have to-“

“We’re celebrating! Besides, Betty says it’s your favorite,” Sam interjected and Betty froze.

Cleo looked at her, confused. “I-it is, but how did you-“

“It’s the most used page in your cookbook,” she rushed to explain, turning away from her and focusing all her energy into picking up the coffee pot to pour Cleo a cup. “It’s been dog-eared a lot. I just thought it would be… nice.”

“It is,” Cleo said thoughtfully. “My partner used to make it for me all the time before she died. I haven’t had it in a while.” She blinked and then smiled. “I’m excited to eat it. You’ll join me?” she asked Sam.

They nodded and sat across from her. Sam cut two pieces and set them on separate plates, then handed Cleo a fork. They both took a forkful of the cake and held in in the air. “Cheers,” Cleo said, tapping her fork against Sam’s before shoving it in her mouth.

The expression on her face changed very quickly. First came surprise, then her face screwed up for a moment before she schooled it into a strained smile. Betty sat the mug of black coffee in front of her and Cleo looked at her gratefully, then took a long gulp, hoping the bitterness would counteract the sugar. When she had swallowed, she asked, “So, how much sugar did you put in?”

“Three cups,” Sam answered with a proud smile.

“ _Three cups?_ ”

“Just in the icing,” they assured. “There was another four in the batter.”

Cleo’s eyes widened and then she burst into uncontrollable laughter, leaning her forehead against the table.

Sam and Betty exchanged a look, unsure what had spurred this on.

“Sorry, it’s good, it’s just-“ Cleo gasped for air. “My partner always put way too little sugar in and it made the cake bitter, it’s just funny that- that you two did the opposite.”

Betty was offended and opened her mouth to say _she followed the recipe, thank you very much,_ but was mercifully interrupted before she could say something she regretted. “Thank you two. I- I’ve never had a version of that cake that actually tastes like it’s supposed to. If- if it had been perfect, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, going in for their second slice. “It’s delicious.”

_Oh, boy,_ Betty thought. _Someone is going to have a sugar high._

“Of course it is,” Cleo said placatingly.

Betty looked at the two of them sitting across from each other, bantering and smiling, and found herself unable to stop from grinning. She and Cleo had talked about how much they wanted a family, how much they were sad they could never have one. It had taken cultists and monsters, but Sam had come into their lives and, for better or for worse, the three of them were a family. An unconventional family, maybe, but a family.

Betty sighed, thinking about how much she wished she could bicker with Cleo about the cake without being worried she’d provoke the same anger that the cultists had.

Maybe one day.

She looked at the pair of them again, looked at Cleo taking a second bite despite being disgusted by the first, looked at Sam relaxing in a way they so rarely did, and thought, _maybe soon._


End file.
